


Mike and Mary

by writworm42



Category: But I'm a Cheerleader (1999)
Genre: Flashbacks, Gen, Identity Issues, One Shot, Prologue, sunday school
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-07-28
Updated: 2013-07-28
Packaged: 2017-12-21 13:37:29
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,178
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/900909
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/writworm42/pseuds/writworm42
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Prologue to the movie. Mike is a young, insecure boy who thinks he might be gay. When his Sunday-school teacher, Mary Brown, finds out, she offers him a way out he's not sure he should refuse...</p>
            </blockquote>





	Mike and Mary

**Author's Note:**

> Obviously, I don't own any of the characters (except the Sunday-school students apart from Mike) in this fiction. 
> 
> The views expressed in this fiction by Mary are NOT my own in any way, shape, or form. This is simply a prologue that I wrote, and the views expressed are very separate from my own beliefs. Seriously. I can't stress that enough.

_Look away, look away..._

Mike stared at the Romans verse in horror, the highlighted red ink jumping out as if it was going to grab him by the face. Inhaling slowly (hopefully not too deeply), he dragged his eyes away from the passage, letting them fall across the youth circle, right on Howard Kazinzki's face. Well, not quite his face. More his thin, tan neck, barely-pronounced Adam's apple beginning to protrude. Or his pecs, well-defined from so many Wednesday-night practices with the church basketball team, practices that Mike had been there for, passing the ball into Howard's hands...

_Look back! LOOK BACK!_

Panic overtook Mike again, and he looked down fast, neck jerking towards his Bible.

Everyone in the room stopped their discussion.

"Mike," a scratchy voice edged with irritation called Mike's head upward, so that he was staring right at the made-up, perpetually frowning face of his Sunday-school teacher. Mary Brown was not a forgiving woman, and her harsh discipline and no-business approach to teaching in the True Word basement meeting-room made her a distant, foreboding authority despite being younger than most of her students' parents. She hadn't been much of a threat to Mike, but now, as she asked him what was wrong, he found himself deeply terrified.

"Nothing, Miss Brown," he quipped, flashing a chicklet smile, "Just interested in the Word."

_And the men, instead of having normal sexual relations with women, burned with lust for each other. Men did shameful things with other men, and as a result of this sin, they suffered within themselves the penalty they deserved._

_  
_Mike would not be one of those men. He _couldn't_ be. He was a Christian, he had two stable parents, his favourite colour was blue... Heck, he was on every sports team at school!

And yet...

A flash of white dashed into Mike's field of view, landing itself atop Romans 1:26. Mike squinted down at the object quickly, flitting between Mary's rapidly accelerating lecture and the task at hand.

A note? Looking around to make sure everyone-- _especially_ Howard--was absorbed in the lesson in front of them, Mike reached out and unfolded the little mess of lined paper with skittish fingers.

_Try not to take it to heart. I know I won't._

Frowning, Mike's neck snapped up sharply for the second time that morning, thankfully going unnoticed this time around. Who had sent the note? It had come from his left, which meant...

Holding his breath, Mike turned his head to look around the circle.

Ron Ginzberg was looking straight ahead, nodding along with Mary's sermon, despite not even having his Bible out. Jerome Faust, looking down at his hands and licking his lips for no apparent reason, probably couldn't even read, let alone write that note. Mike glazed easily over those two, moving on to the girl sitting next to Jerome.

Mike gasped. Cindy Hartfield, brimming confidence from behind flannel and a slicked-back blonde ponytail, winked.

His heart pounding, his mind screaming, Mike winked back.

In front of the class, watching the action unfold, Mary grimaced.

 

The rest of the time passed in a flurry of prayer and dramatic pausing, and before Mike could so much as glance at the clock, class was over, the senior's group waiting impatiently at the door. Still seated, Mike watched as his classmates filed out, some in groups, some, like Jerome, alone. When Howard finished high-fiving and trading small bits of news with the other stragglers, Mike had to fight to keep his neck from craning, his eyes from wandering down as the other boy sauntered out of the room.

"So, Howard, huh?" a light, yet loud voice jerked Mike from his inner struggle, causing him to jump. He'd never spoken to Cindy before, but she leaned over him easily, clutching the edge of his chair like she'd known him for years.

"Yeah... Howard." Mike eyed the girl up and down suspiciously, unsure of her motives. "How did you..."

He stopped suddenly, feeling his eyes widen as pieces of the puzzle began to fit together. Cindy Hartfield, kicked out of girls' track for inappropriate conduct. Cindy Hartfield, who sat alone in English. Cindy Hartfield, who wriggled her tongue and cocked her eyebrows at the whispering girls in the hallway.

Cindy Hartfield, rumoured to have been found under her coach's desk with a teammate and no clothes.

So that was how she knew.

"Yeah," she laughed bitterly, "I know what you're thinking." something left her eyes, but was back almost instantly as she added, "There' s no shame in it, you know. No matter what _they_ ," she cocked her head towards Mary, who was busily wiping off a table with one of the many wet-naps kept inside her purse, "try to teach you. Anyway, I'm pretty sure Howard's all for it."

"Are you sure about that?" Mike could barely raise his voice above a whisper, a fact that he could tell amused Cindy.

"Would I lie to you?" she winked again, patting Mike on the back before skipping out of the room, flashing a grin to one of the elderly church-goers filtering into the room.

Mike smiled and closed his Bible, ready to head home. Maybe Cindy was right, or maybe she was wrong, but the possibilities still made Mike's heart soar.

"She would, you know." Mary looked up from her vigorous cleaning long enough to smirk at her pupil, "Gay people lie to everyone, starting with themselves."

 "We weren't..." Mike's heart, so erractic a moment ago, sank, his mind filling with panic. What if Mary knew? How? Had she heard them? Seen the note? Of course she had, Mary heard and saw everything, even when she wasn't around. How could he have been so foolish?

"Of course you were, and that just proves everything! See, you lied to me, and gays lie." an odd, convicted smile had crept onto Mary's face. "Why would you even listen to a lesbian? It's a well-known fact that all lesbians _hate_ men! She's just trying to sabotage you for her own Satanic agenda, fueled by jealousy."

"Jealousy?"

"Oh, Mike. Look at you. You're a smart, attractive young man with a good wardrobe who's, above all, close to God. She can't have any of that--sin isn't smart, and if she were attractive or well-dressed, well, we wouldn't be having this discussion."

"Hold on," Mike frowned, "Cindy's pretty cute."

Mary laughed. "You don't think so."

"No, I do! Maybe not... Sexually, but--"

"No, you don't think so, because there's no other way to think of girls. Ah, for _men_ to think of girls. Boys. _In any case_ , Mike, I know your type."

"My... Type?"

"Your type. And I know that it's not too late for you."

Now she'd captured Mike's interest. Clearing his throat, he leaned forward in his chair.

"What do you have in mind?"

Mary smiled again, this time softer, almost compassionate. Almost.

"There's a school that I run, in the summers. We're going full time. It's called True Directions, and I think that I just found the valedictorian."


End file.
